


Wings

by LapfulofMisha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Language, Torture, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:12:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LapfulofMisha/pseuds/LapfulofMisha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is pissed at Cas, until Cas appears in his hotel room naked, bleeding, and mostly human . . . except for the wings.  It seems he is the victim of a failed attempt to trap angels in their vessels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

Dean slammed down the lid of the laptop, banishing the Anime princess to cyberspace.

"Sammy, if I don't get out of this hotel room right now, I cannot be responsible for what happens. We are going to find a bar in this shithole town, drink everything we can get our hands on, and put to use every pick-up line known to man."

Sam responded by throwing Dean his cellphone. "Just frigging call him already!" As if he hadn't already tried, a couple dozen million times, but he'd never admit that to his little brother. "I don't know what you're-"

"Dean!" Sam was both exasperated and exhausted by his brother's refusal to admit how much he was bothered by Cas's . . . inopportune disappearance. "Has it occurred to you that he may have had a good reason for doing what he did?"

"The son of a bitch left us stranded in the middle of nowhere, Sammy. You were _unconscious_.  You could have _died_."

"But I didn't, we're fine, _I'm_ fine, the car's fine.  The only problem is you can't get over your abandonment issues!"

"Sammy, I told him if he left us there like that, that I never wanted to see his face again.  And I meant it."  If it were possible to radiate the pure, unadulterated feeling of _pissed,_ Dean would have filled the room with it.  Instead, he threw the cellphone back at Sam.  "Are you coming or not?"

"I need to shower first."

Dean's dramatic eye-rolling was interrupted by the sudden commotion behind him.  Instinctively, both Sam and Dean reached for their weapons and turned toward the crashing sound.  They both froze. 

Sam recovered first.  "Jesus, drop it, Dean, it's Cas!" He moved around Dean and went to the suddenly-present angel sprawled out on the cheesy green motel room carpet. 

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Dean whispered. 

"Uh, Cas? What happened to you?" Sam stammered.  For all of his sudden appearances, none had ever been quite like this.  The impossibly blue eyes and dark, disheveled hair were the same, but Cas didn't have on a shred of clothes, and erupting from his back and filling half the room were dark, feathery wings, roughly the same color as his hair. 

Without waiting for an answer, Sam yanked a sheet off the nearest bed and wrapped it around Cas.  Dean, meanwhile, recovered enough to ask, "Dude, what the hell?"

Cas tentatively flicked his wings, wincing in pain.  He managed to get up on his hands and knees.  He tried to get his feet under him, and fell forward.  Pushing himself up to a sitting position and using his right wing to balance, he responded, "It's Crowley.  He is manipulating a possession spell to try and trap angels in their vessels."  Then, quietly, he added, "He hasn't perfected it yet."

The sudden appearance of Cas, who he'd been desperately trying to _not_ think about, and the fact that he was naked, and for god's sake, the _wings_ \- it was all too much for Dean.  "Dammit, Cas, if there's going to be feathers in my motel room, there had better be strippers!"

Cas looked up at Dean, hurt.  Sam looked at Dean like he had just punched a puppy, before returning his attention to Cas.  "But, vessels don't have, uh, wings.  And how did he get the drop on you?

"Something went wrong when he used the spell on me.  Or, maybe something went right.  The other angels he experimented on, all dead . . ."

Dean registered the suffering on Cas's face before stammering, "Why would Crowley want to trap angels in their vessels?  I mean, you can still do some pretty serious damage dressed up as tax accountants, right, so what's the point?"

"He's not just trapping angels, Dean.  He's-"  Cas paused, trying to find a way to translate the Enochian he needed to use into English.  "Dean, come here."

"Hey, I'm still pissed at you, dude.  Not really in the mood to cuddle."

Cas tilted his head and gazed at Dean with his huge, pleading eyes.  "Dean, please, I -" He tried again to get to his feet and fell back on his hands.  "Human vessels weren't built to support wings," he muttered bitterly.  "Look, Dean, I know you don't want to see me.  But this is important.  I need your help.  I need you to understand.  I need you to _come here_. 

"Oh, so when _you_ need something, we're just supposed to jump. But when _we_ needed, oh, say, an ambulance for Sam, help getting Baby out of a godforsaken ditch in the middle of fucking nowhere, maybe at least a cell phone tower, where the hell were you, Cas? Because the way I remember it, you up and left us there.  Alone."

Cas's stomach growled.  He looked down at it with a sort of resigned confusion.  "I did not leave you alone.  I sent a cherub to take care of you."

"What?? You mean one of those naked guys?"  Dean stared at him, narrowing his eyes.  "You gotta be kidding me.  We never saw -"

"You wouldn't have.  He caught the attention of a motorist on the nearest highway and directed him to you."

Dean fell silent, letting this sink in, remembering their rescuer finding them not fifteen minutes after Cas had left.  He actively ignored the I-told-you-so look Sam was directing at him.  "Why did you leave us there?" he asked softly.

For a minute, Cas didn't say anything.  Instead, he stared intently down at the floor.  Finally, slowly, he responded, "I heard the distress calls of my brothers.  I should have gone to them immediately.  Maybe I could have stopped it."  He looked up at Dean, his voice deepening.  "Instead, I left to find someone to help you, because I knew I didn't have the time to rescue the two of you.  As it was, by the time I got to them, it was too late."

Dean felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, like maybe by Thor.  "You mean," he began slowly, "you were unable to save the angels Crowley killed because you were finding help for us while they were being murdered?  Their deaths are _our fault_?"

"It was my choice, Dean, not yours."

Cas's stomach growled again.  Sam took that as his cue.  "Look, uh, I'm going to make a burger and beer run."  He looked down at Cas, awkwardly wrapped up in the bedsheet.  "I'll, uh, see if I can find you some pants."  Sam glared briefly at Dean, grabbed the car keys, and headed for the door, careful not to step on Cas's wings as he went by.  He opened the door only wide enough to squeeze his monstrous frame through, lest anyone see the feathery mass engulfing the room.

"Tell me what's going on, Cas." 

The angel sighed.   "That's what I've been trying to do.  If you would just let me, I can show you."  He held out his hand to Dean.

Dean reluctantly went over to him and knelt down in front of him.  Cas touched his forehead, taking Dean into his memories and perceptions.  Immediately Dean was transported to a dark, cavern-like room.  He saw Crowley leaning over one of his failed projects, observing the lifeless angel that was seated chained to a chair.  "Well, well, another failure.  Congratulations."  Crowley scowled at the demon standing next to him, obviously an assistant. 

"I don't know what to say, sir," groveled the demon.  "The instant we cut off their communication, their ability to teleport, their connection to their _Grace-_ " he practically spat the word out, "they just seem to lose their will to survive."

"Well, that won't do for our purposes, now, will it?"  Crowley's dark eyes glared at the demon.  "Fix it. Find a way."

Suddenly Dean was in a dark, musty, underground cave, obviously part of the same compound Crowley was conducting angel experiments in.  Cas was gagged and chained to a wall, his wide, frightened eyes taking in everything.  Crowley and his assistant were bent over a table, six feet away, chanting together and dropping shadowy objects that Dean couldn't identify into a giant bowl.  A blue light burned straight up from the concoction, boring through the rock ceiling.  Crowley, still saying words that Dean didn't recognize as either Latin or Enochian, reached into the stream of light, and directed it toward Cas.

Dean thought the agonizing, terrified sound that came out of Cas might actually rip him appart.  Cas began to glow, surrounded by a burning white light. The chains broke away, and he fell to the stone floor of the cave. Dean heard _ripping_ , and Cas's wings burst into existence in the cave, tearing away the clothes from his upper body.  Blood spewed from his back below his shoulder blades.

Dean felt himself being _pulled,_ and suddenly he was seeing the room through Cas's eyes; Cas, reaching for the other angels, calling to them, and mentally running into a wall, as if he was trapped in his own head. He tried to flee, but couldn't initiate teleportation.  He looked up at Crowley, whose eyes were wide and astonished. "What have we here?" the King of Hell drawled.

Dean felt Cas's terror as if it were his own.  The angel tried to concentrate the power of his Grace into his hand, just enough to push the approaching Crowley away.  Nothing.  He tried pumping his wings to at least put distance between himself and Crowley, but the pain in his back where the wings had connected themselves to his vessel's ribs and spine was almost unbearable.

Dean had never felt so infuriated. Crowley was enjoying this, the sick son of a bitch.  With horror, Dean realized what the shiny contraption in his right hand was.  He had an angel blade.

"I think we've met with success," Crowley glanced at the demon by the table.  With that proclamation, he grabbed Cas with some invisible force and threw him back up against the wall.  He took the angel blade and sliced across Cas's left wing.

Cas cried out, shocked by the shattering pain, furious with himself for giving the demons the satisfaction of seeing his suffering.

"So, what do you remember, sweetheart? Let's start with something simple, shall we?  Do you remember your name?"

Cas stared blankly at him, while inwardly trying to access the power to heal his vessel enough to be able to move his wings. If Crowley thought he was incapable of speech, maybe-"

The thought was cut off by Crowley slashing at his wing again.

This time, Cas didn't make a sound at all, just focused himself inward. He had the passing thought that if he didn't get out of here soon, his wings would be too damaged to function.  Dean felt a ball of white light heating up within Cas's body, then felt the world around him shift dizzyingly.  He sensed but did not feel the pain in Cas as his powerful wings lifted him out of the grasp of Crowley.

*****

Dean was sitting on the floor of the motel room, dumbstruck, eye to eye with Cas. Cas's hand fell from Dean's forehead. Dean felt intensely connected to him, protective in a way that he'd only ever felt about his brother.  He was mortified by the horrors Cas had been enduring for the two weeks since he'd left them.

While Dean had been bitching to Sam that Cas was selfish.

He looked over at Cas's wing, the one that Crowley had mutilated. He hadn't noticed before, but it was oozing a mahogany-colored liquid.  "Is that angel blood?" Dean whispered.

"That would be the closest equivalent, yes," Cas answered. He seemed anxious to change the subject. "I was able to escape, but the spell has drained away the little bit of Grace I could use.  It took everything out of me to find you and get here. I'm feeling sensations in my vessel that I can only assume are human needs, and I have no idea how to - Dean, what are you doing?"

Dean couldn't help himself.  He reached up and was lightly touching the soft feathers around the massive cuts, wanting to soothe and comfort Cas, wanting to make his pain go away, and feeling like a teenage girl in a room full of kittens for bein so goddamn emotional.  "Let me get something to clean you up," he mumbled, getting to his feet.

He found the white motel towels and ran them under cold water.  He had no idea how to stop wings from bleeding. There wasn't exactly a first aid reference book to teach that particular skill.  He took some gauze from Sam's pack and went back over to Cas.

Feeling oddly self-concious, Dean began to gently clean the angel-equivalent-of-blood from Cas's back around the bases of his wings.  Cas had been able to close the skin around them, but the top half of his back was covered with purple bruises.  Dean looked down at Cas, silently horrified.  “What can I do?” 

“You’ve already done it, Dean, thank you.”         

"Look, let me help you onto the bed.  You can’t just hang out on the floor all night.” He bent down and carefully put his arms around Cas, under his arms and wings, and steadied him while Cas scrambled to get his feet under him, the deep blue eyes never leaving Dean’s face.  Dean struggled to keep the sheet around Cas, but it succumbed to gravity somewhere between Dean lifting Cas and Cas overbalancing and falling into Dean. Both of them ended up on the bed, with Dean pinned beneath a very naked angel.

Sam walked in the door.    Dean was simultaneously horrified and grateful that he couldn’t see the look that he knew was on his brother’s face.  “So. . . what’d I miss?” Sam asked gleefully.

“Shut up, Sammy!  Get over here and help us!”

Between the three of them they managed to get Cas propped up against the headboard, his wings carefully stretched out on (and covering) the bed, with feathers draping over the sides.  Sam had gotten him some boxers and sweat pants, and Cas clumsily dressed himself before tearing into the cheeseburgers that Sam handed him.  Dean was gratefully downing a cold beer, trying not to think about how good the weight of Cas’s body felt on top of him.  Sam walked over to him and asked, “so, seriously, what’d I miss?”

Dean filled him in the best he could.  Sam listened quietly, glancing at Cas on occasion.  Cas, sitting on the bed, half-naked, surrounded by wings, eating cheeseburgers and drinking a beer.  If not for the fact that he had just been tortured, it would have been funny. 

Sam, although concerned about the plot against the angels, couldn’t help but feel relieved at seeing Cas. At least he was safe for now.

“So, what are we going to do about Fluffy?” he asked when Dean had finished.

“That’s really not funny Sam.”  Dean demolished his beer in a final gulp.

“I don’t know, I mean I think he’s kind of cute like this.  You know, I bet chicks would totally dig the wings.”

Cas looked up at this change in the conversation, looking confused.  “Chickens have their own wings, why would they be interested in mine?”

Sam stared at him.  “Dude. Girls.”

Cas looked more confused than ever.  “Why would girls -?”

“Oooh-KAY,” Dean interrupted, “so let’s just figure out the plan, shall we?”  Great.  Now not only was he thinking about Cas laying naked on top of him (his injured best friend, for God’s sake!), his very active imagination was picturing all of the possible uses for wings during sex.  And God, could he think of a lot of them.  He found himself wondering how all of those feathers would feel bunched up between his legs, on his naked cock, in the crack of his-

“Dean, why are you looking at me like that? Are you alright?” Cas was unwrapping another burger, clearly torn between his extreme hunger and his concern for Dean.

Sam snorted. 

Dean ignored Cas. “So, uh, I believe there must be demons around who know about Crowley’s plan,” Dean managed.  “Capturing angels has to take a pretty well-coordinated effort.”

Sam looked at Dean, one eyebrow up and half a smile on his face, then shook his head, as if remembering the seriousness of the situation.  “Tell you what. First thing in the morning, I’ll see what the local demon population knows about Crowley’s plan.  Maybe I can find knows someone who can tell us about the spell and how to reverse it.”

“Fine.  I’ll stay here with Cas.  If those bastards think their spell succeeded on him, they are going to be anxious to get him back.”

“I agree.” Sam walked over to where he had put the bags of food, by Cas’s bed.  He reached in for a burger, but he was too late.  Cas had eaten all six of them and was looking up at Sam sheepishly.  Sam cleared his throat and asked Dean, “so what is plan B?  If I can’t find out any information? What are we going to do with – I mean we can’t stay in a hotel room forever, and I don’t think he’ll fit in the car.”

Dean was unable to stop himself.  “Well, I have some ideas.  Cas, can you dance?”

“Dean!”  Sam looked shocked.  Dean just shrugged.

“Seriously, Dean, would you look at the guy?  This is not the time for jokes.”

Sam was right, of course, and Dean instantly felt like a dick.  Cas was cut off from all communication with Heaven, unable to return home, and had just spent the last two weeks chained to a wall being tortured by Crowley.  He was hurt and pretty much powerless.  And oh yeah, add to that he was trying to figure out all the weird sensations that went along with being human.  No wonder the guy looked so lost and terrified. Dean ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Cas broke the awkward silence.  “Something’s wrong with my eyes.  I can’t keep them open.“  He yawned, briefly opening his eyes wide and then letting them shut, accepting this as just one more weird experience to be endured.  “I think I’m _tired_.” 

And with that, he fell asleep.

Sam looked at Dean.  “Well, since Cas ate all the burgers, I’m going to run back out for more.  Any requests?”

"I’m not hungry.”

"Seriously?  You go from happy bear to not hungry in two seconds flat?”

Dean shrugged.

“Your loss, Dude.  In that case, since I don’t have to support your cheeseburger habit, I’m going to check out the café downtown and get some real food.” 

Dean tossed him the car keys, and he left the motel.

Dean grabbed himself another beer and settled down on the unoccupied bed.  He grabbed the remote and began channel surfing.  Cas hadn’t been asleep for more than half an hour when a high pitched whine began to fill the room.  The piercing noise intensified, and the mirror on the wall split apart. Dean realized through the haze of pain in his ears and behind his eyes that the earsplitting noise was coming from Cas.

Dean jumped off the bed and reached across Cas’s wing to shake him awake.  “Cas!” he screamed, grabbing him by the face and shaking him. 

Cas’s eyes flew open and the horrific noise stopped. “Dean?” he whispered, incredulous.  “How did I get here?”

“What do you mean? You’ve been here for hours.”

Cas turned and looked at his undamaged wing, curling it around his body and reaching out to touch it.  He looked like he’d never seen it before.  He gingerly touched the feathers, as if surprised to see them.

“I was in the cavern.  The demon was . . .” he paused, dropping his hand to the bed and looking down at his bare chest.

“What, Cas?  What is it?”

“He had a blow torch. He was trying to sever my wing with it.”

Dean sucked in a breath.  It was too easy to imagine Cas, wrapped up in chains, unable to move, powerless to prevent the torture.  And since he hadn’t slept before, he had no way to know it had only been a nightmare.

“Dude, you just had a bad dream.  It wasn’t real.  I know it probably felt real.  But it was only a dream.”

“But Dean, I was _there_.”  He looked around. “I mean, I thought . . .”

“You were _here_ , Cas, and you can’t do that angel-scream thing.  People will notice if glass starts shooting out of windows and they bleed to death out their ears.”

Cas looked down at his hands.  “How do I keep from having . . . bad dreams?”

“Well for one thing, you need to _relax_.”

Cas looked at Dean, incredulous, his eyes turning the darkest, deepest blue that Dean had ever seen.  “You want me to _relax_?  I am trapped on Earth, in a body that I can’t use . . . _on_ _Earth . . ._ while other angels are being tortured to death, and I can’t do a thing about it! I can’t even _hear_ them! Do you have any idea how _deafening_ that silence is? My wing and my back are so damaged I was barely able to get myself here, and the pain is . . .” He closed his eyes and breathed heavily.  “Unbearable,” he whispered.

Dean didn’t know what to say. He took a good hard look at Cas’s wing.  The thick, dark liquid _(angel blood)_ was starting to ooze through the gauze.  “Will this heal?” he asked softly.

Cas looked away.

“Look, uh, maybe I can help.”  He took off his boots and crawled up on the bed, careful to avoid the damaged wing.  Feeling as shy as a virgin, he straddled the angel’s legs and positioned himself so that he was face to face with Cas.  Reaching up, he dug his fingers into Cas’s shoulder blades and began massaging them. “How does that feel?”

Cas closed his eyes and said nothing.  Dean worked on his shoulders for a while, then, careful to avoid the bruises on his back, reached under his arms and around to where the wings connected to his body.  He wrapped his hands gently around the base of each wing and stroked them, letting his fingers run up and around to the top edges of the wings, careful not to put any pressure on them that might jar his back.  As he gently ran his fingers through the soft, warm feathers, Cas inhaled sharply and reflexively wrapped his right wing around Dean.  Dean wished he had taken his shirt off, so he could feel that powerful, feathery mass against his bare skin. 

As much as he loved touching Cas’s wings, he knew he wasn’t helping the muscle pain any, so he went back to Cas’s shoulders, and up to his neck, kneading and rubbing and digging into the tight, spasming muscles. “Is this helping?”  Dean asked softly. 

“I understand now why humans touch each other so much,” Cas whispered.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Dean tentatively reached toward the injured wing.  “You didn’t answer me before.  Will this heal?”

Cas sighed.  “I have no battery power, Dean.  I can feel it inside but I can’t _reach_ it.  It’s almost as if there are barriers inside of me, inside of the _real_ me, not my vessel.  When I fled that cavern, I did as much damage by using my wing in that state as Crowley did with the blade.  The . . . bleeding will stop, but structurally I cannot repair it while I’m-“ he looked at his body, disgusted.

"Human?” Dean filled in for him.

“I’d hardly call this human, Dean.”

"Well I don’t mind telling you, Cas, I’m kind of digging the wings.”  Dean grinned at him and winked.

Cas looked at his shredded wing, and Dean was shocked to see tears in his eyes.  “It looks hideous,” he spat.  “How can you even stand to be close to me right now?”  He withdrew his other wing, and Dean felt suddenly exposed.

“Cas, look at me.”

He didn’t, so Dean gently put his hand on Cas’s chin and tilted his face up so Dean could look at him.  “Your wings are the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.  And guess what?  We all have scars.”

They were interrupted by the ringing of Dean’s cell phone.  “Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered, snatching up the phone and answering it. 

“Dean?” Sammy giggled.  _Giggled. “_ So, uh, Dean, don’t expect me home tonight.  Don’t wait up.”

Dean heard female chuckling in the background. “Fucking awesome, Sammy, even without a shower.  Impressive.  Go get ‘em.” Dean hung up and tossed the phone.  He turned his attention back to Cas.  “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.  Sam has . . . plans.”

Suddenly Cas grabbed his head, wincing.  “I hear them, Dean.  He has two more.  He’s got two angels.  I hear them.   They are completely human.  The demons have succeeded Dean!  They . . . they’re gone.”  Cas looked so agonized, Dean physically felt his pain.

“So what, the son of a bitch leaves you enough power that you can feel their pain, but not talk to them? How the hell does that work?” 

Cas pushed at Dean.  “I have to go to them.”

He was amazingly strong.  Dean struggled to keep from being thrown off the bed to the ground.  Recovering his wits, he grabbed Cas’s arms, and, struggling, pinned him to the bed.

“Dean!”  he yelled.  “They need me!”

“What the hell do you think you are going to do?” Dean yelled back.  “You can’t smite them!  You can’t zap them away to safety!  You can’t even stand up without help!  Your wing is fucked up, you can’t fly, you’re pretty much fucking helpless!” 

Dean regretted that last comment the second it was out of his mouth.  Cas looked stricken.  He stopped struggling under Dean and dropped his eyes.  Dean sighed and released Cas’s arms. 

“Look, Sam and I will figure out how to fix this.  We’ll help you, Cas.  We’ll help the other angels.  But there’s nothing we can do about it tonight.  Dean’s green eyes focused on Cas, overwhelmed by how lost and alone the angel looked, and wanting only to make him feel better.  He reached down and touched Cas’s lips with his fingers.

“Dean,” Cas began.

Dean reached into Cas’s wings, sprawled out over the bed.  And then he was kissing him, his tongue taking on  a life of its own as it explored the inside of Cas’s mouth.  He licked softly along the roof, curling the tip of his tongue behind Cas’s teeth.  His fingers, meanwhile, buried themselves into tufts of soft, pulsing feathers, careful to avoid the cuts and bandages.

Cas’s wings curled in response to Dean’s touch. They craved his fingers, each feather twitching with the contact.  Cas fixed Dean with his disconcerting gaze as Dean looked up from the angel’s mouth. 

"What should I be doing?” Cas breathed.

“Whatever you want, Cas,” Dean whispered.   In spite of the invitation, he was a little surprised when Cas reached up and yanked Dean’s shirt off over his head, nearly dislocating Dean’s shoulders.   Cas wrapped his hands around Dean’s shoulder blades and dug his fingers into Dean’s back, as if reaching for wings. 

He folded his undamaged wing over Dean, cradling him close, hiding them from the rest of the world.  He stared straight into Dean’s soul with such love and desire that Dean melted into him with a moan.  Dean slipped his hand inside Cas’s pants, wiggling through the soft curly hair he found and sliding his hand over Cas’s cock.  It moved of its own volition, rubbing against Dean’s hand, and Dean wrapped his fingers around it and started pumping.  Cas grabbed Dean’s head with both hands and pulled him back down to his mouth.  His lips wrapped clumsily around Dean’s, his tongue tentatively tasting the human’s mouth, feeling the texture.  Cas drunk in every savory sensory experience – Dean’s hand working between his legs, Dean’s mouth allowing him to explore, but mostly Dean’s other hand in his wings.

“Dean I wish you had wings so I could show you how good this feels,” he murmured, returning his hands to Dean’s shoulder blades.  Cas’s eyes drifted shut and he moaned in time with Dean jerking him off.

Dean’s free hand grabbed harder into Cas’s wing, pulling a handful of feathers so hard the wing reflexively squeezed Dean harder.  Dean was so hard and ready he thought his dick would spring through his jeans and jump off his body in search of any available orifice. 

As he worked Cas faster and faster, focusing his thumb on the tip and gently massaging into it while his other fingers squeezed, pulled and kneaded the hot, warm, thrashing stick, Cas finally came.

He cried out something in Enochian, and the light bulbs in the room shattered. The windows were next.  The cheap, crappy hotel art flung itself from the walls, as if relieved to end its miserable existence.  Cas’s angel-scream cracked apart the plaster on the ceiling.  Wind was lazily blowing the curtains into the room.

Cas’s eyes snapped open, and he grabbed Dean’s shoulders.  “Dean, I can feel my grace. The barriers containing it broke apart when I- we- this.  We have to go.”  And with that, he zapped himself, Dean, and Dean’s monumentally unprecedented boner to where Crowley was torturing angels.

It only took Crowley a split second to recognize Cas, realize he was at full power, and transport himself to the farthest reaches of hell.  Cas aimed a ball of light at the two shocked demons in the cavern and obliterated them, then proceeded to release the captive angels, restore their grace, and disappear with them.

Leaving a bewildered Dean alone in the cavern.

Bewildered or not, he still had a monster boner to deal with.  He pulled it out and began relieving himself, the image of Cas coming so hard he destroyed a hotel room still fresh in his mind.  As he was finishing his business, Cas reappeared, fully clothed and with no visible wings, and stared at Dean, tilting his head. 

"Was I supposed to do that for you?” he asked in his typical – I‘m-thousands-of-years-old-but-still-a-clueless-child manner. 

Dean sighed contentedly, then focused his attention on the angel.  “Would’ve been nice,“ he said sarcastically.  “But hey, there’s plenty of time for that, now that you’re back to, you know, you.”  He couldn’t keep the disappointment at the absence of the wings from creeping into his voice.

Cas picked up on it immediately. “You know, Dean, I can manifest them for you anytime you want.”  Dean nearly swallowed his own tongue.  “You mean, it won’t, you know, damage your body?”

“Not if I’m in control of it.” 

Dean grinned.  “In that case, you need to take all that clothes off, right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t think of anything better than a stripper with built-in feathers.”

The End . . . Thanks for reading!

 

 

 

 


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